“Annie, hurry—I’m gonna be last . . .” Glory’s tiny fist shook Annie’s shoulder while a horde of cousins darted behind Gabe, limbs and shrieks slashing the air.
“Oh no you won’t, sweetheart,” Charity said with a snag of Henry’s shirt.
“Thanks, Mrs. Dennehy, you’re the best!” Glory shouted, her angelic smile gliding into a smirk as she tore past Henry with a giggle.
“Hey, no fair!” Henry groaned, Charity’s ten-year-old twin son clearly a master at melodrama. Face screwed in agony, he attempted to twist free. “You always make me go last.”
“That’s because you’re a handsome young man who has to learn ladies go first.” Charity wrestled an arm to his waist, managing a kiss to his cheek before he dashed out the door. Her lips slanted. “At least till a woman marries, and then heaven knows it’s all downhill from there.”
“Hush, Charity,” Faith teased. “You’ll give Annie the wrong idea about marriage.”
“Oops.” Charity winked. “I meant till a woman marries a stubborn Irishman.”
Annie giggled, the easy camaraderie between sisters a balm to her soul. She’d known from the moment she’d met Faith’s sisters at Bookends this morning, and then their mother upon arrival at the house, that this was the kind of family she’d always longed for. The kind she’d been destined for before Maggie left for college and her mother’d taken ill. A sliver of grief edged the corners of her mind and she pushed it away, unwilling to allow a shadow to fall on one of the best days she’d had in a long time. “So, you all married Irishmen, then?” She scanned the faces of Faith’s sisters as they sipped tea around their mother’s table.
“’Fraid so,” Charity said, teacup in hand and a leisurely smile on her face. Her elbows sank onto the table as perfectly manicured brows angled in tease. “Lady-killers, all—giving a whole new meaning to the word, because trust me, they’re as stubborn as they are good-looking.”
Katie chuckled. “Right down to the man who gave us life, right, Mother?”
Marcy turned at the counter with a smile, mixing ingredients for a final batch of cookies. “Oh mercy, yes,” she said with a shake of her head, the occasional silver strands in her blonde bob one of the few indicators she was Faith’s mother and not an older sister. “And his two sons? Goodness, it’s as if he spit them out of his mouth, although Sean isn’t too bad I suppose, is he, Emma?”
Faith’s sister-in-law smiled. “I’m afraid the jury’s still out on that one, Marcy.” Emma’s gray eyes twinkled. “Although I suspect he might be the least stubborn of the lot.”
“Humph,” Charity said, chomping a cookie, “he’s certainly not the most thickheaded, I can tell you that.” She swiped a dab of stray frosting with her tongue. “Mitch has a lock on that.”
“Well, don’t worry, Annie,” Marcy said with a crinkle of laugh lines around clear blue eyes, “just steer clear of men from the Southie neighborhood for Italians from the North End.”
“Oooo, I hear Italians are romantic.” Lizzie stirred cream into her tea with a dreamy sigh.
“Uh-oh, it’s not almost two-thirty, is it?” Katie jumped up with a final swig of tea. “I’m supposed to meet Meg at Harvard Law at two-thirty to study criminal justice, and I wanted to surprise Luke with some cookies at the office on my way.”
“To soften him up before you tell him about studying with Jack?” Charity licked the remains of frosting from her finger while giving Katie a devious smile.
Katie hiked her chin, a pretty shade of rose blooming on her cheeks. “Already told him, if you must know, and he took it rather well.”
“Oh, Katie, I’m so relieved.” Marcy delivered bowls of cookie dough to both sides of the table and plopped in a chair, commencing to fan herself with a well-worn recipe card. “I wasn’t sure how Luke would react.” Her lips tilted as she glanced at Annie. “Something else to consider with Irish men, I suppose—stubbornness compounded by temper.”
Katie dropped several sugar cookies into a paper bag, then tucked it in her purse, rounding the table to give her mother a kiss. “To be honest, Mother, I was relieved too, given Luke’s penchant for drama. But all I had to do was promise to stop studying with Jack, and all is well in the McGee household once again.” She dispensed hugs to her sisters. “Thanks, Lizzie, for keeping Kit tonight. I owe you. With Luke working so many late hours, my studying time has been slim to nil, so a night at the library is a godsend.” She extended a hand. “Annie, it was wonderful meeting you and Glory. I hope we’ll see you again soon.”
Annie squeezed Katie’s hand. “I would like nothing better, Katie, trust me.”
Retrieving a massive book from the counter, Katie sauntered to the back door and tossed a smile over her shoulder. “This was fun, but duty calls—first to deliver cookies to the love of my life, then on to study a subject that might actually teach me how to deal with my husband.”
“Manslaughter?” Charity asked smoothly, lips curving into a wicked smile.
Katie chuckled. “Nope, bribery.” Waving, she pushed the screen door open. “Toodle-oo.”
“Goodbye, dear. So, Annie,” Marcy said, not missing a beat as she spooned cookie dough onto a baking sheet. “Faith says you live with your aunt, Eleanor Martin. We’ve never met, but I’ve heard wonderful things about what she’s done for the parish, so you must be very proud.”
Annie glanced up. She’d never thought of Aunt Eleanor in terms of being proud of her, but since the two of them had grown closer, Annie discovered a warm glow spreading through her chest. “Why, yes, I suppose I am, Marcy,” she said slowly, still hesitant to call Faith’s mother by her first name as Marcy insisted. “I won’t lie, it was a shock when Glory and I moved here. You see, our family was estranged from Aunt Eleanor, so when Daddy died six months ago, almost two years after Mama, it was an adjustment. Not only for my sister and me, but for Aunt Eleanor too, given a long-standing feud between our families.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Marcy whispered. The kindness in her eyes caused moisture to well in Annie’s. “Faith told us about your mother and father, which absolutely broke my heart.” She gave Annie’s hand a gentle squeeze before returning to the task before her. “But it seems as if God has certainly provided for you and your sister.”
“Yes, he has,” Annie breathed, swiping her eye with the back of her wrist. Her gaze connected with Faith’s, who watched her with the affection of a big sister. “Especially when he brought your daughter into my life at a time I was struggling with both my faith and my aunt.”
Marcy smiled. “Yes, Faith has been blessed with wisdom and passion for God, which has seen all of us through many a trial, I can tell you that. It seems to be her gift.” Her gaze rounded the table, eyes soft as she beheld each of the women in the room. “But then each of my daughters and daughter-in-law have unique gifts that have blessed my life.”
“Ooo-ooo, what’s mine?” Charity asked, blue eyes sparkling as she leaned on the table.
“Making grown men cry,” Faith said with a grin.
“Hey, only my husband,” Charity said with a thrust of her jaw, “and it’s been awhile.” Her nose scrunched in thought. “I think.”
Chuckling, Emma smiled at Annie. “I understand you’re from Badger, Iowa. Did you live there all your life, or does your family hail from Boston?”
“My younger sister and I were born and raised there, but my older sister was born in Chicago. My mother, Aunt Eleanor’s sister, was born in Boston.” Annie smiled, her tone suddenly edged with melancholy. “When Mama fell in love with Daddy, apparently it caused quite a ruckus in the family. You see, Mother was Catholic and Father was a Protestant minister, so they left Boston to raise a family in Chicago and then moved to Badger.” Her sigh was heavy. “I don’t think Mama’s parents ever forgave her before they died and Aunt Eleanor seemed to follow suit.” Her smile returned as she glanced at Faith, breaking her bittersweet reverie. “But, that’s all changed now because of Faith’s counsel and prayers,
hopefully to end the feud forever between the Martins and Kennedys.”
“Kennedy?” Charity asked over her shoulder, checking on the cookies in the oven. “You wouldn’t by chance be related to . . .” She paused and shook her head. “Naw, of course not—you’re from Iowa. Although you do remind me of someone,” she said with a squint, causing Annie’s stomach to flip-flop as Charity sized her up. Shooting her a smile, Charity plopped back into her chair. “Don’t worry—it’ll come to me sooner or later, I’m sure.”
“Annie!” An apple-cheeked Glory flew into the kitchen with a squeal, her blonde Shirley Temple curls damp and disheveled. “Can we stay for dinner, please?” she said, barely able to catch her breath. “Gabe invited us and we’re going to play Sardine’s Ghost!”
“Glory, no—” Annie began, blood warming her cheeks at her little sister’s boldness.
“Of course you’ll stay for dinner,” Marcy insisted, popping up when the timer buzzed. She set the cookie sheet on a rack to cool before putting a new one in, then grabbed a cookie from the plate and handed it to Glory with a hug. “You look like you could use this, Glory.”
Annie was mortified. “Marcy, honestly, about dinner—we can’t impose.”
Glory spun around, eyes wide. “Sure we can, Annie. Aunt Eleanor won’t be home till late, remember? Please, can’t we stay, please?”
“Say yes, Annie,” Faith said with a chuckle. “Tonight’s the only night Brady and Collin can work out at the gym and Mitch is working late too, so Lizzie, Charity, and I are staying. Besides, I’d love for you to meet my father and brothers.”
Annie glanced from Marcy to Faith while Glory tugged on her arm. “Puh-leeeeez, Annie? We’re having so much fun with Gabe and the others. I’ll die if we have to go home!”
“Well, we can’t have that, I suppose,” Annie said with a crooked grin.
“Yay!!” Glory squealed and raced out the door.
“Thank you, Marcy,” Annie said. “And Faith, I’d love to meet your father and brothers.”
Charity elbowed Faith in the ribs. “Not as much as we’d like you to meet them.” She plopped her chin in her hand and stared at Annie with a mischievous smile. “I have a brother who could sure use a sweet girl like you in his life.”
“Charity, enough,” Marcy said, offering Annie an apology with her smile. “I’m afraid Charity is the matchmaker in the family, so just ignore her.”
“Like we try to do,” Faith said with a grin.
Charity’s lips went flat. “And my husband . . .”
“Do I smell cookies?” The screen door opened wide, and a tall, sandy-haired man in his midthirties strolled in with a hungry gleam in his blue eyes. He made a beeline for Emma to give her a kiss before nabbing several cookies. With a quick peck to Marcy’s cheek, his gaze landed on Annie, his boyish grin and freckled face reminding her of a grown-up Huck Finn.
“Sean, this is Annie, a friend of mine from catechism class,” Faith said, clearing the table. She playfully pinched the back of his neck. “And this is my big brother, Sean.”
“Nice to meet you, Annie.” Sean shook her hand with a smile that was easy and warm.
“Likewise, Sean,” Annie said with equal enthusiasm, reaching for a cookie.
He tugged Emma from the chair and kissed her soundly. “Ready to go, Mrs. O’Connor?”
The cookie wedged in Annie’s throat. O’Connor? Her gaze darted from Marcy, Faith, and Charity to Lizzie and Sean, and alarm curled in her stomach at a sudden glimpse of Steven in their features. The straight lines of a classic nose, the familiar shape and depth of expressive eyes. She started to cough, and Charity slapped her on the back. “Goodness, you okay? Sean has that effect on people, I know, but he’s not too bad once you get to know him, right, Emma?”
Annie struggled for air while Emma blushed. “Nope, not bad at all.”
“Newlyweds,” Charity said with a bored sigh, shooting her brother a dry smile. “I’m afraid the poor guy was a bachelor so long, he doesn’t know how to behave in public.”
“Or maybe I do and you’re just jealous since I’m here and Mitch isn’t.” Sean tweaked Charity’s blonde bob as he passed, Emma in tow.
The smile on Charity’s lips veered sideways. “Is it really that obvious?”
“Yes,” Sean and Emma said in unison, laughing on their way to the door. “See you Sunday, everyone,” Emma called, blowing Charity a kiss.
Annie gulped her tea, mouth dry and hands shaking so much the liquid sloshed in her cup. “Y-you mentioned t-two sons, Marcy,” she whispered, her voice nearly hoarse. “Sean and . . .”
“Steven,” Marcy said, rising to put the last tray of cookies in the oven.
The cup slipped from Annie’s fingers to rattle against the saucer and spill, Earl Gray pooling on the table as quickly as dread pooled in her chest. God help me, I have to go . . . She bounded to her feet, almost tripping over her chair to retrieve the dishrag from the sink. “Goodness, forgive me, I am so clumsy!” Near breathless, she attempted to clean up. “I . . . we . . . should go. You don’t need two extra mouths to feed . . .”
Eyeing her with concern, Faith took the dishrag from her hands. “Sit, Annie, it’s no big deal, truly. Mother has a vat of chili prepared and salad in the icebox, so we have plenty to eat.”
“Absolutely. We won’t take no for an answer,” Marcy confirmed with a warm smile.
Annie’s hands started to sweat. “No, really I should go.”
“May as well give in.” Charity gave Annie’s neck a playful squeeze on her way to wash up the dishes. “If there’s one thing we O’Connors are famous for, it’s our powers of persuasion.”
Yes, I know. The image of Steven pushing her to the wall with a kiss suddenly scalded Annie’s cheeks. “B-but . . . but . . . Cook has probably already started dinner . . .”
“Then call her,” Faith said calmly, steering Annie to the phone with a gentle prod. She handed her the receiver. “It’s unanimous—we all want you to stay.”
Not all, Annie thought, the mere mention of staying causing her stomach to lurch.
“Besides, I want you to meet my father. Stubborn and Irish to the core, but one of the men I love and respect most in the world. I just know you’re going to love him too. Oh, and my brother?” Faith flitted her fingers, indicating for Annie to hurry and dial the phone. “Steven’s a real sweetheart as well, so don’t worry—you’re going to love him to pieces.”
Worry? That she wouldn’t love him to pieces? Annie gulped. No problem there.
Katie skittered up the steps of the Boston Children’s Aid Society, a flood of memories catching her off guard. It’d been almost a year since she’d quit working part-time at the BCAS to return to law school and almost a year since she’d become Luke’s wife. She pressed an impatient finger to the elevator button, unleashing creaks and groans from antiquated pulleys. A smile flickered across her lips. But, oh what a year! Never had she believed she’d fall as hard as she did for a man as pushy as Luke McGee, but fall for him she had, pigheadedness and all.
The elevator door creaked open, and she hurried in, thinking how wonderful he’d been when she’d told him about Jack. Absently tapping the button, she leaned against the wall while the elevator jerked and shimmied to the second floor. Amazingly understanding, patient, kind, forgiving, especially for a man whose workload had spread his patience quite thin. And gorgeous, to boot! The model husband, actually, the memory of his wise words underscoring what she already knew to be true. “It’s just not smart, Katie, for a married woman to spend time alone with a man unless he’s the dean, a blood relative, or a priest.”
The elevator jolted open and she fished the bag of cookies from her purse. The man was a saint, no doubt about it, working long hours alone while Bobbie Sue was sick and Gladys out of town. A twinge of guilt tightened her chest. And all while his wife “dallied” with her old fiancé, studying or no. Without question, Luke McGee deserved these cookies and more. A soft smile curved on her lips. And,
oh, how she looked forward to giving him “more”!
She tiptoed toward his office, giddy at the prospect of surprising the man who could warm her blood by just walking into a room. Adrenaline rushing, she peeked in, and in the catch of her breath, that same blood went from warm to subzero.
“I owe you another dinner, Lauren. These reports are top drawer.” Luke scanned and shuffled papers while a young woman beamed over his shoulder, hand casually on the back of his chair. Platinum curls obscured her face with a peek-a-boo style while her expensive crepe blouse and button-down pencil skirt revealed curves Katie could only dream about.
The fashion plate gave Luke’s shoulder a casual squeeze, and Katie’s jaw dropped. “If you keep buying me dinners, Luke McGee, I’ll be the most spoiled intern in Boston.”
Intern? Sweet chorus of angels, he has an intern?? Katie’s lips compressed, thinking she’d like to do a little “spoiling” of her own—first Luke McGee’s evening, and then his face.
“Trust me, Lauren, you’re worth every penny. The best intern I ever had.”
Excuse me? Fury boiled up, spilling over. “Really, darling? I thought that was me.”
Luke glanced up and went pale so fast, his freckles looked like buckshot. “Katie . . .” The voice that cracked was no more than a croak. “W-what are you doing here?”
“Interrupting, apparently,” she said coolly, striding forward with a tight smile. Extending her arm, she held the paper bag over his desk, fingers pinched like it was one of Kit’s soiled diapers. “Gosh, hon, I felt so bad about you working alone, that I brought you some cookies.” She promptly let go, cookies landing with a splat.
Ever the professional, Luke shot to his feet with a clear of his throat, the cool of his tone belying the heat in his eyes. “Katie, this is my intern for the summer, Miss Lauren Hill,” he said with restrained patience, those blue eyes piercing as always when he wanted the upper hand—calm, calculated, and in control. A silent demand for dignity and decorum. Yeah, fat chance.